


Breathless and Boiling

by WhisperNorbury



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Caliginous Romance | Kismesis, Knight of Blood, M/M, Masochism, Orgasm Delay/Denial, The Windy Thing, heir of breath, kismesissitudes as a fun and healthy realtionship, kismesissitudes is a hard word to spell consistantly and correctly, superpowers are meant for sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-13
Updated: 2011-12-13
Packaged: 2017-10-27 06:55:45
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/292867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhisperNorbury/pseuds/WhisperNorbury
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John tries to be Karkat's friend, but Karkat just makes it so difficult, so frustrating.  Something finally gives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Breathless and Boiling

**Author's Note:**

  * For [H](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=H).



The hall outside John’s room feels surprisingly full for only holding two occupants.

“I want to be your friend.” John implores Karkat, with a smile he thinks he should feel more than actually feels.

“I’m not.”

“You just make me so…” John continues, trying not to heed the words.

“Yes?”

Angry, John doesn’t say, because he doesn’t want to feel that way about a friend, even one he makes out with on occasion. Even though it’s true and inescapable and building in him even now. Has been ever since they arrived on the meteor. But Karkat’s face foretells something yet more nasty coming out of his mouth, and John is having none of that.

A part of John says to keep Karkat from saying whatever it is at any cost, and for once he listens to it.

John watches as Karkat jerks with aborted attempts to draw in uncooperative air, and slowly crumples to the floor as more and more of his breathing sacs collapse under the forceful, nonconsensual exodus of air. John can feel each one of them crumpling and refusing to reinflate.

John feels a spark of heat ignite in his abdomen, spreading and pooling as Karkat's head comes to rest, bent-over and horns-first on the ground. The heat ratchets up as Karkat fails at mustering an attempt to stand again. Troll blood was so much better at holding vitae while being denied replenishment, and especially Karkat's. He could last long, long minutes without any fresh air. An agony of minutes.

John flings his arms out from his body as the heat tracing along the ropes and pathways under his skin becomes too much. Karkat's head rolls to the side just enough for John to catch the jagged, gorgeous grin slashing Karkat's mouth apart at the same time as the unnatural heat starts raising welts down John's arms.

As John is held in the shock of such brilliant retaliation, Karkat manages to gulp down a stray breath.

If he’d had the air for superfluous words, Karkat would have told John that while John can take away something he needs, Karkat can make something John can never escape from turn traitor on him at any moment.

John marshals enough of a breeze to plunge down his temperature, but the burn was already fading on its own. Shifting. Rushing towards his greatest distraction and away from strategizing.

The air around them turns truly chill just in time for John to flush uncomfortably, but less painfully, warm against it.

Karkat is on his feet again by the time John can focus on anything outside his own body. He's still not breathing, but he's somehow managed to quell his lungs into not asking for breath, not reflexively forcing him to seek it as what he has dwindles and dwindles with each further action. John identifies the feeling that inspires in him as respect.

Karkat slides into his space and kisses him with no askance or warning. John is surprised to find this entirely welcome, despite the hot rush of dark feelings lashing through him. While Karkat's trying to get at John's own personal hoard of air, John uses his still unnaturally hot hands to overstimulate the bases of Karkat's horns.

Karkat makes a rumbling sound that he presses against John. John's answering moan allows him to steal another tiny, sustaining sliver of breath.

Then Karkat's moving downwards with intent, taking to his knees and mouthing without even bothering to remove John's pants. John grinds into his face without hesitation, earning himself a nip that just barely only catches fabric.

"No teeth."

Karkat's look is disdainful and eloquent, surely covering many lines of angry ranting, but John can't be bothered to decipher it and Karkat doesn't have the air to voice it.

Karkat remains inches away from John, staring at him intensely. John feels the erection unwillingly begin to wane, as his blood forces itself away from his arousal. Karkat continues to stare him down, smirking with the knowledge of exactly how frustrated this makes John, to be so riled up but unable to get off.

John relents and twines his fingers firmly into Karkat's hair, forcing Karkat's back into an arc before calling up the Windy Thing to slice shallowly across that delectable curve. Karkat’s shirt falls away, revealing lacerations that well with just enough blood to show color, but not to drip down his back. Enough that Karkat can _feel_ it.

Karkat lets a tiny amount of his breath out unwillingly, briefly warming the moist spot on John's pants. His eyes drop from John's eyes back to his arousal, which is eagerly becoming firm again. John is suddenly glad they have an endless supply of easily producible pants.

Karkat's claws slice away John's pants without imparting a single mark to John's skin. Karkat knows how John likes it as bright with pleasure as John knows Karkat likes it bright with pain. And John has been so good about indulging him this time, John can see the reward coming in the way Karkat's lids slide partway shut. In the way he removes John's underwear instead of tearing it off with his teeth.

John presses a warm breeze against the scratches down Karkat's back, soothing them enough to have him leaning in and licking John's erection with something akin to fondness. John keeps his hips still, feeling his heart pick up the pace, honestly unsure if that was Karkat's doing or his own body.

But Karkat pulls away once again, this time to nip at John's thighs, sucking and paying them all the attention John wishes were focused on his dick. Karkat isn't breaking skin, but he steadfastly refuses to look at John, focusing solely on leaving as many marks as he can without raising blood. John can see the endgame signs of deprivation-fatigue setting in, but Karkat won’t even let his imminent courting of unconsciousness distract him.

John's hand in Karkat’s hair tightens, and he less than carefully wrenches Karkat's head back into the correct position. Far past caring, John thinks viciously that Karkat can watch his own damn teeth; he knows the consequences. Karkat growls with a vibration that is not a sound, not wasting any of his remaining air. John's arm tingles with the feel of it, the pleasure behind it.

Just when John thinks he is going to have to take further action, Karkat lunges forward, taking John entirely in his mouth in a single motion. John overbalances backwards and just barely catches himself on the Windy Thing.  
Karkat is sucking like John's dick is the last, nearly-depleted respirator in the universe that he’s trying to coax one more living breath out of. John starts to shake with the intensity and suddenness of it.

Toomuchtoomuchtoomuch John's body screams, but that overload was exactly right, exactly what he needed. Not a sound escapes his parted lips. Nothingnothingnothing else exists. It is a liberation, an escape, and a tethering, bound in a single, comforting package.

The first thing he becomes aware of afterwards is the sound of Karkat breathing, loudly and freely. Slowly, the feeling of his own body, and Karkat's slumped against him, seeps in along the edges. Karkat is doing the best impression of being a satisfied mess that John has ever seen. John smiles easily for the first time in days.

"And that is why kismesissitudes are... necessary."

And for once, John gets it.


End file.
